Of Hawks and Men
You know about our resident hawk. I'm not sure what kind of hawk she is, or even if she is a she, but I know that she is a good hunter--she's taken a dozen of my little chicks!
Last weekend I was outside doing my chores. Taking care of the animals is easy, really, but does take some time. We acquired a barn cat, "Kirby", and I have to give her dry and wet cat food (the wet to trick her into staying) and feed it to her in one of my last ceramic cereal bowls on top of the hay. One of the chickens has figured it out and went snooping up there the other day, and I'm pretty sure the groundhog that lives in the barn is hip to it but can't get to it.
So it's feed the cat, throw some feed to the chickens, begin throwing the last of last year's hay to the big animals (the grass is getting pretty thin), and water everyone.
I'm walking back up to the house after turning off the water pump. The house is to my right, the eggmobile is still parked to the left, and SWOOP! "Squeak!Squeak!Squeak!!!" That damn hawk!
She had been around earlier in the day. She lit upon a walnut tree and got hassled by the tree's resident squirrel. Kevin and I watched as the squirrel scampered on the thin branch toward the great predator and seemed to say "Hey! Get the frick out of my tree!" and the hawk would turn and flap her wings. The squirrel backed off, came on again, flap flap, on and on. ("Eat the squirrel--stay away from my chickens!") She finally flew away, but the chicks felt her presence and had spent the day hanging out under the eggmobile. But, now, they had let their guard down...
The hawk must've been on the edge of the house roof--or else she flew like a stealth plane down its slope. She pounced, grabbed a chick that was just slightly out from under the protection of the eggmobile, and started to fly away.
I was 12 feet away from this. I started running after the hawk who had to fly around the side of the eggmobile to head for the hills. I was running after a hawk. Stop and think about that for a moment! She was within my vertical reach for about 30 feet, but moving forward and up like a jet plane carrying the lover I was ready to say goodbye to and then, suddenly, realized I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. (Here's a distraction--come up with a list of ALL the movies that end with someone going after someone at the airport.)
And my poor little chick was screeching the entire way.
The hawk landed at the top of a dead tree at the edge of the pasture. I went down there, tore a dead limb from the tree, stomped it into 2-ft. long pieces, and threw the pieces at her. I wasn't trying to hit her (and seriously doubt I could have if I had wanted to); just hassle her. Why should it be so easy for her? After watching me for awhile, she flew away, chickie dangling from her talon.
Later on, I did some yoga. During the relaxation part I started to feel bad about hassling her. She has to live, too. Same with the coyotes. It's up to me to protect my animals; if I can't, then it's me who has to rethink this thing. Not just start shooting. Or throw bits of wood.
As I wrote this, I thought of something I hadn't before. No one has asked me what my #1 issue in this election is. Everyone talks about the economy or healthcare or whatever. All very important. But my #1 is this: How will the U.S. use its power in the world? Will we continue to do this knee-jerk shoot-first, 'don't talk without precondition' bullshit? I want my country to talk. To try to avoid conflict. To realize that just because you can, doesn't mean that you should.
And that is exactly how I feel about my pasture and the larger world both around it and part of it. No preemptive attacks.
The hawk visited yesterday morning, too. When I opened the eggmobile, I found 19 chickens stuffed into two nesting boxes. Usually, they see the open door and flap right out. "What gives, chickies?" I looked for signs of raccoon attack. None. And then I heard a short whistle. I wondered if there was a hawk. I stepped back, scanned the trees, and there she was--in the high branches of the walnut tree, the one right next to the walnut tree that belongs to the very protective squirrel.
I stood in the driveway and looked at her, telling her to just fly on by. I took a few pictures and stood guard as my big girls came from messing up the mulch in the garden beds, walked across the blacktop (a clear shot), and ambled down by the barn. I got in my car and left. I counted the chickens when I got home and, apparently, the hawk decided that she didn't feel like chicken tonight. Peace reigns in the barnyard. And I'm considering a llama.
Last weekend I was outside doing my chores. Taking care of the animals is easy, really, but does take some time. We acquired a barn cat, "Kirby", and I have to give her dry and wet cat food (the wet to trick her into staying) and feed it to her in one of my last ceramic cereal bowls on top of the hay. One of the chickens has figured it out and went snooping up there the other day, and I'm pretty sure the groundhog that lives in the barn is hip to it but can't get to it.
So it's feed the cat, throw some feed to the chickens, begin throwing the last of last year's hay to the big animals (the grass is getting pretty thin), and water everyone.
I'm walking back up to the house after turning off the water pump. The house is to my right, the eggmobile is still parked to the left, and SWOOP! "Squeak!Squeak!Squeak!!!" That damn hawk!
She had been around earlier in the day. She lit upon a walnut tree and got hassled by the tree's resident squirrel. Kevin and I watched as the squirrel scampered on the thin branch toward the great predator and seemed to say "Hey! Get the frick out of my tree!" and the hawk would turn and flap her wings. The squirrel backed off, came on again, flap flap, on and on. ("Eat the squirrel--stay away from my chickens!") She finally flew away, but the chicks felt her presence and had spent the day hanging out under the eggmobile. But, now, they had let their guard down...
The hawk must've been on the edge of the house roof--or else she flew like a stealth plane down its slope. She pounced, grabbed a chick that was just slightly out from under the protection of the eggmobile, and started to fly away.
I was 12 feet away from this. I started running after the hawk who had to fly around the side of the eggmobile to head for the hills. I was running after a hawk. Stop and think about that for a moment! She was within my vertical reach for about 30 feet, but moving forward and up like a jet plane carrying the lover I was ready to say goodbye to and then, suddenly, realized I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. (Here's a distraction--come up with a list of ALL the movies that end with someone going after someone at the airport.)
And my poor little chick was screeching the entire way.
The hawk landed at the top of a dead tree at the edge of the pasture. I went down there, tore a dead limb from the tree, stomped it into 2-ft. long pieces, and threw the pieces at her. I wasn't trying to hit her (and seriously doubt I could have if I had wanted to); just hassle her. Why should it be so easy for her? After watching me for awhile, she flew away, chickie dangling from her talon.
Later on, I did some yoga. During the relaxation part I started to feel bad about hassling her. She has to live, too. Same with the coyotes. It's up to me to protect my animals; if I can't, then it's me who has to rethink this thing. Not just start shooting. Or throw bits of wood.
As I wrote this, I thought of something I hadn't before. No one has asked me what my #1 issue in this election is. Everyone talks about the economy or healthcare or whatever. All very important. But my #1 is this: How will the U.S. use its power in the world? Will we continue to do this knee-jerk shoot-first, 'don't talk without precondition' bullshit? I want my country to talk. To try to avoid conflict. To realize that just because you can, doesn't mean that you should.
And that is exactly how I feel about my pasture and the larger world both around it and part of it. No preemptive attacks.
The hawk visited yesterday morning, too. When I opened the eggmobile, I found 19 chickens stuffed into two nesting boxes. Usually, they see the open door and flap right out. "What gives, chickies?" I looked for signs of raccoon attack. None. And then I heard a short whistle. I wondered if there was a hawk. I stepped back, scanned the trees, and there she was--in the high branches of the walnut tree, the one right next to the walnut tree that belongs to the very protective squirrel.
I stood in the driveway and looked at her, telling her to just fly on by. I took a few pictures and stood guard as my big girls came from messing up the mulch in the garden beds, walked across the blacktop (a clear shot), and ambled down by the barn. I got in my car and left. I counted the chickens when I got home and, apparently, the hawk decided that she didn't feel like chicken tonight. Peace reigns in the barnyard. And I'm considering a llama.
posted by lulu | 8:15 AM
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